


A Merry Little Christmas

by AnnieAmi



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, On the Run, Post-Episode: s09e19-20 The Truth, Pre-The X-Files: I Want To Believe (2008), kinda sexy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-19
Updated: 2020-12-19
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:07:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,622
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28156548
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnnieAmi/pseuds/AnnieAmi
Summary: First Christmas on the run is difficult for Scully, but Mulder tries to help.
Relationships: Fox Mulder & Dana Scully, Fox Mulder/Dana Scully
Comments: 16
Kudos: 37
Collections: X-Files Secret Santa Fanfic Exchange (2020)





	A Merry Little Christmas

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LuminousPie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LuminousPie/gifts).



> For LuminousPie, whose prompt asked for the following:
> 
> Mulder and Scully on the run. Things are a little fraught as Scully doesn't think they'll get to celebrate Christmas and she just wants to do one normal thing and forget about the danger for one day. Mulder surprises her by decorating their motel room / cabin and giving her a day to remember.

Scully wakes with Mulder’s arms wrapped around her, his half-erection pressed against her legs as he breathes heavily into her hair.

Blinking her eyes open, she sees that though it is still dark outside, the room aglow with hundreds of tiny lights strung about the room. They reach floor to ceiling and wrap around the windows twice. She revels in this moment, warm and safe.

As she disentangles herself from Mulder and the sheets, she throws on a robe and looks out the window.

A white Christmas, she thinks. How about that?

*****

December 24, 2002

Scully watches the scenery roll by from the passenger seat of a beat up old Ford. Mulder had purchased it second hand from a dealership just outside of Boulder that no doubt contained the word “honest” in the title - Honest Bob’s? Honest Joe’s? It didn’t matter. They knew the car was a piece of junk when they bought it and that’s the way they wanted it. Keeping a low profile was key to their survival.

They pass inviting shops and restaurants with twinkling lights, laughing carolers, bundled children holding parents’ hands and young couples sipping steaming cups of hot chocolate in the brisk late afternoon; a woman with dark shoulder-length hair links an arm with a little girl who must be her daughter. Scully’s breaths hitches.

Mulder glances sidelong at Scully, worry etched on his face. “You ok? You’ve been very quiet since… well, since we got to Wyoming.”

“Just thinking about my mom. Is she spending Christmas with Bill? Or Charlie? She’s all alone. Is she worried about me?” Scully sighs at the thought of her mother in a big empty house, a large tree and no one to share it with. Her heart tightens like a tourniquet.

“I know it’s difficult, but Skinner told her enough to know that you’re safe.”

“And I keep thinking about William.” Scully swallows past the lump in her throat and fights the urge to cry. She remembers chubby kicking feet, tiny crescent-shaped scratches on her chest, his gentle coos. Every night she awakes to his phantom cries.

Mulder shifts in the driver's seat and grips the steering wheel tighter. “Scully, I…”

“Where are we going, Mulder? I’m getting tired.”

“We’ll be there soon,” he assures her. “Just a few more miles up this road. Aren’t you enjoying this picturesque mountain town of Cody, Scully?”

Scully settles her head against the window in quiet acceptance and considers feigning sleep. The road becomes steep and slippery as they ascend the slope.

Cody is small and rural and lacks the flashy abundance of tourists a ski resort would attract. They pass horses and farms, old horse-drawn wagons left for display. Then Scully ceases to see signs of people and a few minutes later they pull up to a small cabin.

Mulder shuts off the car engine and looks at Scully expectantly.

“You’re sure we weren’t followed back there?” She asks wearily.

“The cops at the bottom of the mountain? Yeah, I’m sure. They have better things to do. ‘Tis the season, Scully,” Mulder attempts to console her. “Let’s get your inside. You can warm up and unpack and I’ll go to the town center and get us some supplies.”

Scully nods and opens the car door. The air is crisp and clean this high up. Trees surround the property.

“How did you get this place?”

“The Internet,” he replies cryptically as he makes his way around the car to Scully.

“The Internet?”

“Look, Scully,” he begins, his voice tender. “We’re safe. This is a sleepy little hamlet in the mountains. You’re not likely to see anyone up here. I wouldn’t do anything to put you in jeopardy.” He reaches for her hand, stroking her wrist with his thumb.

Scully nods again and he pulls her in for a hug, kissing the crown of her head. When she pulls away, eyes cast downward, Mulder retrieves their meager belongings from the car and follows her inside.

The cabin is old and musty. Scully walks around the wooded lodge, flipping light switches and trying the tap for hot water. No one has been inside for a long time, months probably. It takes nearly a minute for the water to warm, putting Scully more at ease.

“What do you think? Nice digs?” Mulder asks proudly, emerging from the bedroom where he has set down their bags.

There are thousands of miles behind them. If they spent seven years moving two steps forward and three steps back, they now spend every day hurling forward, away from their past. There are nights in seedy motels, nights in their small car, fast food meals and rest stops. This small, modest cabin away from civilizations, is a momentary reprieve.

“Nice digs,” she agrees. “Very nice digs.”

“Come on. Let me show you the best part.” He leads her through the bedroom and out the sliding glass doors onto a balcony. The air is biting and she hugs herself against the chill. Before them is a stately snow-capped mountain, the dark woods below. It is sunset and the view is bathed in a warm halo.

“Mulder, this is gorgeous.” She leans into him.

“Well, the accommodations aren’t fancy, but it sure is pretty here,” Mulder says and wraps her up in his arms to fend off the quickly dropping temperatures.

No, the cabin isn’t fancy, but possesses a certain reclusive charm that accommodates their needs.

“It’s perfect,” she agrees, but her voice catches and he tightens his hold on her.

“Talk to me, Scully,” Mulder urges gently.

“Nothing. It’s just that…” She swallows and squeezes her eyes against the stinging tears, as her mind flashes on her mother rocking William in front of a Christmas tree. She quickly shakes away the thought and turns to face Mulder. “I wonder what he’s doing right now,” she whispers.

His eyes are a dark brew of understanding and shared loss. In their depths, she sees his anguish. Though he left after changing only one diaper, after holding Wiliam only for a brief time, Mulder spent months alone with the hope of one day returning to the woman he loves and their son. And when he returned he found that half his heart was missing.

“I wonder all the time, Scully. I miss him too.” He cradles her face, his thumbs stroking her cheeks. “Do you… do you want to talk about him?” he asks tentatively.

Scully shakes her head. “No. I’m... I’m not sure that I could right now, Mulder.”

“I’m here… when you’re ready.”

The weight of his words press down on her, his hope that one day she would tell him about the long days, the short year, spent with their son. When the floodgates will finally open, Scully wonders if it would be healing and restorative, or if she will drown.

Accepting this Mulder ushers her inside. “Why don’t you go take a bath?” He whispers into her ear. “Rumor has it there’s a hot tub.”

“Well, that does sound nice.”

“You don’t even know the half of it. I went all out and bought you a very fancy peppermint bubble bath from the dollar store.”

“Mulder, you shouldn't have,” she said deadpan but smiles appreciatively when he hands her the red and white striped bottle.

“I’m going to run out and pick up some food,” he says as she prepares for her bath.

“Can you get me some more hair dye?”

“Sure. You take your time, okay?”

Scully, disrobing, hums in approval and makes her way to the bathroom as Mulder heads out the door to procure an acceptable Christmas dinner.

The hot tub is large, dominating the small bathroom. If there is one feature she is grateful for, it’s this. With the hot water running, Scully squeezes a generous amount of the festive bubble bath and sits.

The water stings as it slowly rises around her hips. She lets out a choked sob, one she’s been holding in for months. She cries for the time she and Mulder spent apart, for abandoning her mom, for leaving her brothers without an explanation, for her dead career. She cries for her baby boy, who is spending Christmas unwrapping presents with his new family. She cries until she feels she is going to shatter.

Scully submerges her head, the bubbles tickling her ears, and stays under until her lungs burn. She comes up gasping for air, then leans back, allowing her muscles to succumb to the slow undulating waves as her sobs subside.

A loud thud echoes near the house. Scully’s eyes shoot open, darting around the bathroom.

“Hello?” She calls out. “Mulder, are you back?”

When there is no reply, Scully lies her head back, quiet but alert. She waits. There are slowing light beams, likely from a car, near the side of the cabin that she can see from the bathroom window.

Scully’s FBI training immediately takes over. She stands to grab a towel and wraps it around herself as she steps onto the cold tile. Still as a statue, she listens and waits again, a puddle forming at her feet. She curses herself for not bringing her piece in the bathroom as a clang echoes from outside.

Bedroom dresser, she recalls the mental image of her gun in the next room.

Scully reaches for the door handle, toes planted firmly so as not to slip. She turns the knob slowly. If someone is trying to get into the cabin, if they’ve actually found her, she has little time to grab her weapon and protect herself. And she won’t have time to warn Mulder. If they are already in the cabin, then she’ll likely spend Christmas in jail, and Mulder… she doesn’t want to think what might happen to him.

The adjoining bedroom is dimly lit by a nightstand lamp. Scully places a hand on her gun and picks it up. Beyond the door to the living area, a car’s headlights flood the cabin’s main room.

“Mulder?” Scully calls.

Silence.

Certain that she is alone, Scully makes her way to the living room, back gliding against the wall, a hand clutching the towel to her chest. There is the scuffle of feet and a commotion in the street. She risks a peek through the diaphanous curtain, using the firearm to move the thin sheet to the side.

Outside a man and a woman are reattaching a fallen Christmas tree to the top of their car. Branches litter the street and she is pretty sure the man is cursing.

Scully huffs out a relieved laugh and pads gently back to the bedroom, where she turns on the radio to the continuous loop of Christmas music, then heads to the bathroom. She sets her small handgun on the counter and settles into the hot tub. The door remains ajar. Silent tears stream down her cheek until she is too tired to cry anymore.

After the radio cycles through the typical Christmas songs three and a half times, Mulder bursts in through the front door, stomping boots and shuffling bags.

“Scully, it’s me!” He calls from across the house.

“In here!”

“Hey,” he whispers, popping his head in the door. “Relaxed?”

“Yeah,” she nods.

“Okay, great. You ready to come out?”

“Not yet.”

“Good. Stay put a while longer. I have some unloading to do.”

“Shouldn’t be a problem,” she says, closing her eyes.

The door shuts behind Mulder.

Scully emerges from the bathroom, robed and relaxed, to a serene winter wonderland, the room emanating a soft glow. Mulder has strung lights throughout the bedroom and living area, rainbow and white intermingling, and small elf figurines adorn the nightstands and dresser.

“Oh, hey, Scully. Merry Christmas!” Mulder comes bounding to her side, wraps an arm around her, escorting her to the main room. It is covered top to bottom in more lights, snowflakes shimmer from every high surface, icicle lights twinkle from the ceiling, and above the fireplace hangs a wreath.

“You did all this, Mulder?”

He looks around, admiring his work. “Yeah, I sure did.”

“For me?” Scully asks, incredulous.

“Yes, of course. I can imagine how hard this must be for you, Christmas away from your family. And I wasn’t exactly the best companion our first couple of months… away from home.” On the run, he means to say, but she appreciates his tact. “So, what do you think? Is it merry?”

“Merry? Mulder, this place is downright enchanted,” she exclaims, her eyes tearing.

“There’s more. Check your stocking.”

Scully eyes him surreptitiously. “What do you have up your sleeve?”

“Nothing naughty.” Mulder raises his hands in mock surrender. “Just look.”

Scully giddily tiptoes to the fireplace, where her stocking is hung with care. Inside she finds a packet of hot chocolate, mini marshmallows, and a Santa spoon.

“And that’s not all. I got you wine - the liquor store's finest cab.”

“That sounds wonderful. Did you happen to get any food? I’m starving.”

“I did, actually. Dinner is in the oven. Turkey, ham, sweet potato mash, gravy, cranberry sauce, and, of course, dessert - a slice of pecan pie and a slice of pumpkin pie. The works!”

Scully arches an eyebrow.

“Diner. Best in town, according to the locals.”

Scully wraps her arms around his waist. Speechless, she puts her head to his chest and listens to the steady thrum of his heart. His hands rub her back, smoothing over the cheap terry cloth.

“Thank you so much, Mulder,” she manages. “It’s perfect. I’m sorry I didn’t get you anything.”

“You’ve done enough.”

Scully changes into her only pair of jeans and a low-cut sweater as Mulder spreads out their dinner before the fireplace and they feast late into the night. Few words pass between them.

Full and sated, Scully leans over and brushes her lips against Mulder’s. “Thank you so much for all this,” she says huskily.

“My pleasure,” he mumbles into her mouth.“But that’s not the best part. Tomorrow’s gonna be great. I’m working on making it a white Christmas.”

Scully bites her lip and smiles. “You might be handsome and charming, but you’re no Holman Hardt. You can’t control the weather.”

“You think I’m handsome and charming?

“Handsome, always. And usually charming. When you’re not driving me completely nuts.”

“I’ll take it,” he says.

“It’s the best you’re going to get right now,” she plants a soft kiss on his bottom lip.

“Mmmm,” he groans, “you taste like pecan pie.”

“Well, it’s the best pie.” Scully licks her lips, the tip of her tongue lightly running against his own. Mulder breathes in her cherry scent and a shiver runs down his spine.

“No,” he whispers, “pumpkin pie is clearly the best. Pecan is a close second.”

Scully blinks sleepily at him. “Do you have proof?”

“No. Maybe I need a bigger sample.”

“Maybe.”

Mulder closes the distance between them, pressing his mouth to hers. She is soft and malleable against him. Life on the run has been kind to his physique, and if he was lean and athletic before, he is now rugged and Scully revels in the way he moves against her.

*****

December 25, 2002

In the bed behind her, Mulder rolls out from under thick blankets. Scully doesn’t turn her head from the window as he pulls on boxers and walks up behind her.

“I don’t know how you did it, Mulder, but you delivered - a white Christmas.” Scully stirs her hot chocolate with the Santa spoon, a little woodsman elf Santa, watching over her from the end table. Mulder’s version of Christmas may border on tacky, but she loves it.

Mulder squeezes in next to her on the large lounge chair. “Must be an X-File.”

**Author's Note:**

> Many thank to all the betas - 
> 
> @Theatre_in_the_Dark - always so supportive. Thank you for the small detail that made my story better. 
> 
> @BigBlue82 - Ever the encouraging friend! 
> 
> @Lappina - For catching the tiniest mistake that one else did! Well done!
> 
> @Peyton_fancher - Hype woman extraordinaire! Thank you!
> 
> And @Sarie_Fairy - For going over the story with a fine-toothed comb.


End file.
